


You Don't Know Shit About My Problems

by to_love_a_lightwood



Category: The Outsiders (1983), The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Alcohol, Graphic Description, POV First Person, Past Sexual Abuse, Self-Harm, Sorry I wasn't gonna post this but coping mechanisms are weird, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28081710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/to_love_a_lightwood/pseuds/to_love_a_lightwood
Summary: "I'd trade with you in an instant, hands down," Dally swore, looking at me in disgust. "Your father's nothing like mine. My father used to beat the shit out of me for nothing. My father drank away all our money and left me starving. My father-"I exploded. "Your father ever crawl into bed with you?" The room fell into a shocked silence. I desperately wished I could shut up, but the years of humiliation and anger had built up inside me and I finally let it out. "Your old man ever get so drunk he came into the wrong bedroom at night? He ever get so drunk he mistook you for your stepmom?"Too much alcohol and past trauma are never a good mix when you're trying to keep secrets. Please read the tags, there are some references to past rape and graphic descriptions of self harm.
Relationships: Dallas Winston & Original Female Character(s), Two-Bit Mathews & Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 7





	You Don't Know Shit About My Problems

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stand reading in first person tbh but this was a quick story I churned out as a coping mechanism. The main character is Two-Bit's cousin that hangs around with the gang and accidentally lets some things slip. Caution: Dramatic shit awaits.

"Alright, alright," Dally said, reaching for the beer in my hand. "That's enough for you. You're not getting alcohol poisoning on my watch."

I stared up at him, making sure he could tell how little I cared about what he had to say. "I'm fine, Winston," I said, keeping the bottle out of his reach. "I haven't had that much." I heard a soft scoff from one of the guys on the couch beside me, but I was too drunk to know if it had been Soda or Ponyboy. Hell, it could have been Darry from all the way in the kitchen and I wouldn't be able to tell.

  
Dally raised an eyebrow at me. "This is your sixth drink and you're what, a hundred pounds? That's bullshit and you know it. I'm not driving your ass to the hospital."

  
I snarled at him. "Fine, I haven't had enough yet. I didn't ask for you to drive me to the hospital, either. Mind your own."

  
He crossed his arms, eyes narrowing dangerously. I knew I was pushing my luck, considering how Soda tensed next to me, but I didn't have it in me to care. "Cut the shit, kid. You can either tell me why you're drinking so much or you're done for the night."

  
For a moment, I considered it. Maybe I should just tell him. "It's none of your business. I don't ask about your problems, you don't ask about mine."

  
Dally took a few steps toward me and before I could tell what was happening, he had grabbed my upper arm and yanked me a little too harshly off the couch. "I have real problems to deal with, I don't have time for whatever crybaby shit you're trying to get over. Give me the fucking bottle."

  
I tried to yank my arm away, but was too drunk and too weak to pull it off. I shoved the beer at him angrily. "You want it? Fine, I don't care anymore. I'll go somewhere else to drink." I pushed at his hand and finally managed to break my arm free, not able to hide the wince from the others. "And don't tell me I don't have real problems, Winston. You don't know shit about my problems."

  
Soda finally jumped up next to me, grabbing my wrist before I could make a break for the door. "Let's all calm down, okay?" He tried, but Dally and I were too far in to pay any attention to him.

  
"Fine!" Dally snapped, almost yelling in my face now. "I'm sure whatever argument you had with your fucking step mom really fucked you up, huh? What, did she call you a mean name?"

  
I felt my blood boil, and I couldn't stop myself from yelling back. "Sorry I don't have a daddy around to hit me like you do, asshole. That doesn't mean I don't have problems with Stacy or her fucking boyfriend making passes at me while she's at work."

  
His face fell a little, confusion stopping his next retort in its tracks. "What do you mean, making passes at you?" I was silent, face heating up as I turned red as everyone's attention turned to me.  
"It doesn't matter," I tried to backtrack, but the damage had been done.

  
"Does he… Did he touch you?" Darry forced out, starting to approach me like I was a scared animal.

  
I made a face, humiliation making me stutter a bit. "I said it doesn't matter. I- I've had worse before. And don't say it like you're my goddamn social worker."

  
"We'll kill him," Dally said, face settling into a stony expression. "Darry, Soda, come on."

  
"Wait a second, Dal," Soda spoke slowly. He looked at me with more pity and concern than I could handle in my current state. "What do you mean, you've had worse? If something's going on at home, you know you can tell-"

  
"I can't." My voice wavered despite my best efforts. "It's not what you think. Her boyfriend only ever bothers me when he's drunk, and even then he's better than-" I stopped myself before my drunk mouth could spill my biggest secret to half of my friends. "I need another drink," I said quietly.

  
"Honey, drinking won't help," Soda said carefully. "We just want to help you, you know."

  
My chest ached at the words. As much as I wanted them to fix everything, I knew this type of thing would never be undone. "I know," I tried to assure them. "I know I can count on you guys for anything, but there are some things you just can't understand about the way things are."

  
"We can try," Pony finally said quietly. "I mean, I'm not sure how much help I would be in killing the guy, but I can at least understand what he does to you isn't right. We've gotta do something."

  
"No, we don't," I argued, still trying to diffuse the situation while protecting my own ass. "Listen, Stacy has been taking care of me for ten years now. I can't have you beat up her boyfriend without having to face the consequences later. Besides, ever since my dad died she's had enough on her plate. I'm not sure she'd care much anyway."

  
"She would," Darry countered. "I know she thinks the thing with your dad was your fault, but that doesn't mean-"

  
"It was my fault," I started, cursing the way the alcohol made me want to sink to the floor and tell them everything. I really, really didn't want them to know. Right? They'd tell Two-Bit for sure, and he looked up to my dad like he was his father instead of an uncle. I couldn't tarnish the memories he had of him. I wanted one of us to remember him in a decent light.

  
"How can you think that?" Dally tossed his arms up, exasperated. "You didn't put the gun to his head, did you? He pulled the damn trigger himself. It's no one's fault but his own."

  
Tears swam in my eyes. "You don't know everything. You didn't even know the guy, much less the reason he decided to kill himself. Looking back, I'm not sure if I would have even stopped him."

  
Dally looked angry at that. "That's a load of shit and you know it. The way Two-Bit talks about him, you'd think the man was a god. I just can't understand why someone like you who actually had a father who loved and cared for you can be so mad at him for dying." I tried to cut him off, but the words stuck in my throat. "Compared to my old man, I'm sure yours was a goddamn superhero."

  
"No," I forced out, "he wasn't anything like that. Just because my dad didn't hit me doesn't mean I can't be as mad as you."

  
"I'd trade with you in an instant, hands down," Dally swore, looking at me in disgust. "Your father's nothing like mine. My father used to beat the shit out of me for nothing. My father drank away all our money and left me starving. My father-"

  
I exploded. "Your father ever crawl into bed with you?" The room fell into a shocked silence. I desperately wished I could shut up, but the years of humiliation and anger had built up inside me and I finally let it out. "Your old man ever get so drunk he came into the wrong bedroom at night? He ever get so drunk he mistook you for your stepmom?" My voice cracked, but I kept going. "The man was no angel, but it's what he did to me that made him kill himself."

  
My heart was pounding as I waited in the heavy silence for a response. After several uncomfortable moments, Soda's voice broke me out of my thoughts. "He- What did he…" He trailed off as I turned to face him, pain evident in his eyes. "How old were you?"

  
"It doesn't matter," I tried to sound angry, but I was just so tired. "Please, don't tell Two-Bit. He loved my dad. If he ever found out what happened, it would kill him."

  
"He deserves to know what kind of man his role model really was," Dally said with an air of finality. "It's not right that he's walking around thinking he was some kind of stand-up guy when he was really some sick fucker too weak to live with the consequences of his own damn actions."

  
"He wasn't sick or weak, he was drunk," I spat back. "If you woke up to find out you accidentally raped your eight year old daughter, you'd put a bullet in your head too." I snatched my jacket off the sofa and stalked to the door, trying to escape before the tears building in my eyes fell.

  
Dally caught me by the arm again right before I could turn the handle to leave, and I felt the rage burn hotter in my stomach. "You were eight? You've gotta tell us exactly what he did to you, I swear I'm gonna-"

  
"He's a dead man, Dallas, you can't do shit to him now." I yanked my arm away, grabbing the door handle again as the tears finally started to spill over. I angrily dragged my sleeve across my face, belatedly realizing there was no point if they already knew I was crying. "And I don't have to tell you shit. If you want some free porn, go shoplift a Playboy."

  
I shoved the door open, stumbling across the front lawn as I hurried away from the house. I couldn't take the judgement, couldn't take the fact that they knew the secret I had kept hidden for ten years now. God, I needed a cigarette. I could picture the look on Two's face when he found out, twisted in denial and confusion and anger. He'd feel like it was his fault, like since I had no brothers and he was my older cousin he should have been able to protect me. There was nothing he could have done in the first place, being ten years old and asleep in his own house as it happened. That didn't mean he wouldn't beat himself up over it.

  
I hadn't realized I'd been heading for the lot until I stumbled into it, sobs tearing from my throat even as I tried to keep them quiet. I was shaking like a leaf, but within a minute I had managed to light a cigarette and take as long a drag as I could in my state to calm me down. I sat down and tried to focus on anything except my thoughts, like the glowing embers falling onto my jeans or the cancer slowly being drawn into my lungs and even the fact that at any moment a sports car full of Socs could come by and jump me or worse.

  
No matter how much I tried, I couldn't focus on anything except the memories. The confusion I had felt when he first crawled under my hand-me-down pink sheets, the discomfort as he shoved his hand sloppily up my nightgown, the fear as I realized he wasn't listening to me beg him to stop. The shame crawled down my throat, setting fire to my lungs and burning through my stomach. I threw up four times before I was able to stop myself, and it took another two rounds of dry-heaving for my burning muscles to finally quit. "Fuck," I croaked out, although no one was around to hear me. "What did you just do?"

  
My thoughts were running about a thousand miles a minute, and I couldn't stop the occasional sob tearing from my chest or the gag as images swam before my eyes I'd been trying to forget for years. I couldn't stop feeling his hands slip up my thighs, and the face he had made when he woke up and saw the blood, realizing what he had done.

  
Before I could think about what I was doing, I fumbled with my switch blade and dragged it as fast as I could across my left forearm. "Fuck," I gasped as the pain hit me, but my arm continued moving as if on autopilot. It felt like my body wasn't mine, like I was watching someone else tear into their skin with a dull blade over and over again. I hadn't done this in years and tried so hard to quit, but the relief I felt overpowered any disappointment. I needed to stop. I knew I needed to stop before I fucked myself up even more tonight and the guys found out about another decade-old secret of mine, but it took far too long for me to actually drop the blade and grasp at my arm to try to stop some of the bleeding. I felt dizzy for a few moments as I wiped my blade in the grass and put it back into my pocket, yanking my sleeves down over my abused arm as if that would erase what I had done. I stood up slowly from the ground, starting to stumble away from the Curtis house and the lot. I needed to find Two-Bit before the others could.

  
My head was buzzing as I made my way toward my aunt's house in the dark, praying I wouldn't run into any trouble. I needed to get to my cousin before they could destroy his perception of one of the most important men in his life. When he was alive, he really was a good person. He went to church every Sunday after my mom died and made sure Two-Bit and his mother were provided for as well. I was a freak accident, in the wrong place at the wrong time. As much as he had ruined my life, I couldn't let everyone judge him based off of his biggest mistake.

  
The porch light was on at the Matthews' house, but no one was in sight. I felt a flood of relief knowing I had beaten the rest of the guys here, knowing I could talk to Two-Bit first and convince him it was all a misunderstanding. I had no idea what I was going to say, but as my foot hit the first step the front door swung open. I took a step back in surprise, followed by another as I realized I was face to face with Dallas, Steve, and a noticeably upset Two-Bit. After a moment of shock, Dallas started, "Listen, kid-" and I was running as fast as my drunken, weakened legs would carry me. I couldn't even reach the edge of the yard before I felt a hand close roughly over my left arm, causing me to cry out and recoil from the burning of my jacket scraping across my still slightly bleeding arms.

  
My breath was coming in uneven gasps, vision swimming a bit as my arm was grabbed again by Dallas. I tried to pull it away from him, desperate to hide the evidence of exactly how much tonight had hurt me, but he was stronger. I shot him a glare, fighting the tears threatening to come out and humiliate me further. "Two-Bit," I called, still uselessly struggling against Dallas, "Whatever they told you was a lie. I swear-"

  
I felt my arm burning again as my sleeve was yanked up, watching as all three of their faces changed, clearly displaying alarm and concern I hadn't wanted to see. "What the fuck?" I heard Steve say, right as Dallas began cussing up a storm.

  
"You did this to yourself?" Dallas asked angrily, but at that moment I couldn't give two shits about his anger. My face grew hot with embarrassment, and I tried not to show how distraught I was at his betrayal.

  
"You told Steve?" I asked, my voice much too high to pretend I didn't care.

  
Dallas started to argue with me again, but he stopped when Two-Bit spoke up. "Is it true?"

  
I couldn't tell him, he couldn't know what happened, I needed to laugh it off and say I was lying or joking or too wasted to know up from down. His face was schooled into a neutral expression, but I could see the tension in his jaw and the desperation in his eyes. If I found the right words he would believe me, simply because he had loved my dad like the father he never had and would do anything to cling to the image of the man he had known. I opened my mouth to explain everything, to shrug it all off as some drunken prank, and was mortified when all that came out of my mouth was a broken sob.

  
As if something had snapped inside of me, I felt tears falling from my eyes for the second time that night. I was breathing too hard and too fast, trying to calm down enough to stop fucking crying over what should have been no big deal to me. I pulled my arm away from Dallas successfully this time, probably because he knew there was no going back for me at this point. I hadn't exactly said it out loud, but I'm sure my response alone confirmed it. "I'm so sorry, Two," I said, failing to keep the shame out of my voice. "It's all my fault. I'm so fucking sorry."

  
"Cut the shit, kid," Dallas said, not as harsh as he usually would be. He could be tough as nails in any other situation, but the second a girl started to cry he became so uncomfortable it was almost comical. "You know damn well it wasn't your fault-"

  
"You don't know shit!" I yelled back. "You weren't there! It was a goddamn mistake, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." He tried to argue back, but I cut him off. "I hope you're fucking happy, Dally. Now you can go tell the rest of the world about how slutty and disgusting I am." I pulled my sleeve down once more, trying not to notice my cousin had turned as white as a sheet. Steve hadn't said anything since I had gotten here, and I think even Dallas was momentarily speechless. I was about to turn on my heel and walk away, thinking about spending the night in the lot when Two-Bit broke the silence.

  
"You should have told me," he said softly, struggling to keep his voice steady. "All these years I've talked about how great he was, and you just sat there and listened to it." I looked into his eyes, regretting it once I saw the emotions swimming behind them. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  
I grimaced, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. "You were ten years old, Two. Even if he hadn't shot himself, what could you have done?" I glanced at the other two, lowering my voice as I added, "I realized I was the only one who knew what had happened, and I wanted it to stay that way. He really was a good man, and I wanted you to be able to remember him based off of your memories of him, not mine."

  
"Hate to interrupt the family shit," Steve interjected, managing to sound annoyed even though there was no anger in his face at all, "but you might need stitches, kid. We'd better get your ass to the Curtis house before you bleed out all over your aunt's lawn."

  
I spared a glance at my arm, although it was still covered by the jacket. There was blood drying down my arm and onto my fingertips, and I winced as I thought of the rest of the gang finding out about this too. "Can I just wash it off inside?" I pleaded. "Everyone already found out about the rest. I don't think I can take any more pity tonight."

  
Despite himself, Two-Bit cracked a small smile. "I get it. You can go ahead, as long as my mom doesn't see." I offered him a small grateful smile back and walked past him to the house, but he stopped me. "Just promise me you'll tell the rest of the guys about it eventually. I'm gonna need some help keepin' an eye on you."

  
I rolled my eyes at him, but felt a little warm at the thought. "Whatever, Two," I called back, heading to the bathroom to rinse off the mess I had made of myself. I still wished that I hadn't slipped up and told them everything, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have the guys behind me on this. As long as they were around to back me up, I knew nothing could touch me ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! This year has been rough for a lot of us, so don't be afraid to ask friends, family, or even a hotline for help if you need someone to talk to! Hang in there guys!


End file.
